The Dance of the Seven Veils

I have indeed watched all of Season 1 of Mad Men and I await your scintillating insights with bated breath! Joan! I’ve come round to your way of thinking. She is the most seductive human I’ve ever seen. The curves. The eyelashes! The smoldering simper. For his part, Don–despite the rage he rightly inspires–(or perhaps, and this is the more terrible possibility–because of it?) has inspired peculiar and distinctly unprogressive fantasies.

What do we do with this misguided nostalgia? How to find the eroticism without the other “-isms” that make the show so bleak? Help me, dear CF.

We talked a little about the absence of communication in these on-screen marriages, and I’ve been thinking since about the role of silence in relationships. What do we and don’t we say? To what extent is veiling a form of foreplay, and distance a turn-on? I wonder: Is the difference between eroticism and porn just emotional lingerie?

Fondly,
Millicent

PS–Forgive my temporary absence–I was away until Sunday, when a dear mutual friend (and unsuspected Connect-Four hustler) came to visit.